


Her (Invisible) King

by KatLeePT



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6210568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatLeePT/pseuds/KatLeePT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She may not see him, but she damn well knows he's there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her (Invisible) King

She pads from her bathroom with steam still rising in the air. Her hands are busily at work drying her hair in a big, white towel as she reaches her dresser, but then, suddenly, she stops. Her eyes dart to the mirror, but there's nothing out of shape in her room. There are no shadows, no giggles, nothing to make her think she is not still alone.

She finishes drying her hair and then lets her towel drop. She's reaching for her brush when it happens again. This time, there's no denying the unseen presence in the room, the feel of invisible arms slipping around her slender waist, or the soft pressure suddenly pressing against the back of her ear. The sharp, _hot_ pressure that slides over the curve of the bone just behind her ear, so warm that it makes her gasp aloud.

That one touch seems to set her very soul to fluttering in a building inferno. The heat spreads quickly from her ear to radiate through her whole body. She struggles to calm her suddenly labored breathing. He's not here. He can't be here. She didn't invite him.

But then it happens again, another point of hot, sweet pressure just below where the first one happened, and then again and again and still again as a path is trailed down her neck. She arches instinctively, her whole body aching to feel that wonderful, invisible pressure. Her mind, always so aggravatingly full of logic, tells her this can not be happening, but her body knows what it feels. It always has, even back in the labyrinth when she took all she possesses and denied the one man to whose booted feet she still wants to lower herself.

Movement in her mirror catches her brown eyes. She looks swiftly to it, but there's still no Goblins racing across her bedroom, giggling in her drawers, or sniggering behind curtains or underneath sheets. Nothing has moved in her bedroom. She is alone here, every bit as alone as she was when she first stepped into her bath or when she came home tonight, so tired and weary from a long day at work.

She is alone, but the curtains in her open window move with the rising breeze. She wonders idly why she always leaves that window open, but she already knows. It is not safe -- <I>he</I> is not safe --, but still, she leaves it open for him. She leaves it open in silent invitation, hoping with all her heart that he will one night return to her even while her mind tells her she's blown every chance at love she'll ever get.

A warmth splays across her stomach underneath her white robe, pressing her back. She gasps again at the force she feels preening into her back. Then the fire is back, trailing down one arm at a time in spots, just as it did before down her neck. Something wet slides against each finger in turn, but again, there's nothing to be seen.

Her heart is fluttering like the wings of a dove and beating like the drums of the Fieries against her chest and up into her arched throat. "J-Jareth?" she manages to squeak out, but the only answer is the continued ruffling of her bedroom curtains. "J-Jareth? Are . . . Are you here? If you're here, show yourself."

Still, there is no answer. No footsteps sound behind her. Nothing flickers in the reflection of her room and herself. But the warmth is still there, still cupping her, still caressing her. And then the loop of the belt that holds together her rope suddenly dissolves itself. Her nipples are already hard with want and need, but now her breasts are experiencing the same hot, sweet warmth that has crossed over her neck, arms, and hands.

Her eyes widen as she watches her own breasts perk in the mirror, lifting as though something, some _one_ is holding them. The same invisible wetness she felt first on her fingers is now on her breasts, circling, circling. She throws back her head and moans. The wind outside builds, and somewhere, an owl hoots.

She does not hear it, does not hear <I>him</I>, but there is no denying what she does feel. There is no denying her King or the call of her soul and body to his. Fingers knead her soft flesh, nails stroking her with just a slight sharpness. Lips press to her breasts, and pointed teeth draw down upon her hard, pink nipples. She sees none of this but her own reaction to the movements, but she feels it. She feels it -- She feels _him_ with every inch of her being.

Sarah lets her rope drop as her knees almost buckle. Blindly, she stumbles back to her bed and lets herself fall upon it. His hands have moved up to her face now. He's stroking her, caressing her, touching her as though she is a great treasure to be savored, not his willing slave. But she knows, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, that she is.

There is no labyrinth to best here, no monsters or Kings to defeat. There is no little brother here for whom to sacrifice everything she's ever wanted. There is no right or wrong, no titles, no better cause. There is only her invisible King and the things he's doing to her, the things he's making her feel, the things of which she wants more of far more than she's ever wanted her next breath.

He presses down hard against her. She can almost hear his voice in her mind now, but she knows it is not his present words. No, the voice she hears is the tone he used before in the labyrinth. He's saying her name over and over again, tisking her, teasing her . . . And all the time, he's frisking her.

How he can be everywhere on her at once, she doesn't understand. How he can be here at all and not make his presence seen, she doesn't understand. But then, she's never really understood his magic. "I want to see you," she manages to whisper, but then the wetness is back, pressing hard against her lips, sliding down her throat, filling her, demanding her to be his . . .

She's never wanted anything more. She's always only wanted him, but she had to deny him before. She had to save her brother. She had to save Toby, but Toby's grown up now and far gone from home. Only she lives here now. There are no little brothers for which she must give everything.

She tries to speak his name, tries to call him, but his power is overwhelming. He is everywhere at once, thrusting against her mouth, thrusting down into her throat, thrusting up inside of her, and all she can think, despite the passion and pleasure he's granting her, is how badly she wants to see him, how badly she wants to be able to reach out and touch him in return. It's not fair, but then, he always said things were not fair.

She can hear his voice still in her mind, questioning her basis, teaching her that life is unfair, speaking her name in such a way that even then he made her teenage self shiver from head to foot in but one whisper, teasing her, laughing at her, laughing in her . . . She manages to scream his name as the invisible force she knows to be her King's doing finally rips from her mouth. She screams his name, and she hears him laugh.

She hears him laugh far down below where still his physical form is trapped in the labyrinth while high above, she comes. She comes to his invisible kisses, to his long, slow conquering of her body and her very soul. She comes harder and louder than she's ever come before, and she knows that no other lover will ever do for her as he has done. There is no other who can compare, and there never will be. Shaking, alone in her bed, Sarah weeps as the power withdraws because she knows. She knows she'll always be his, heart, soul, and body, and yet, he'll never come for her again in person. She knows she's lost him, lost what she secretly treasured most, and as he laughs, she cries and whimpers his name one last time, the whisper of her hoarse voice punctuating the dark solace of her bedroom, "Jareth!"

  
**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.


End file.
